Pkchukiss – Reality Wine

After I read some of my friends’ blogs, it seems to me that the new year started on a bad footing for all of us. Firstly, I spent the 1st 2 days of the new chinese calendar rushing a long-overdue assignment. Next, I spent the 2nd half of the 2nd day of the same said calendar writhing in pain.

It’s like you just want to curl up on the floor and stop moving, but you can’t because the pain is so bad that you’re thrashing around on the floor like an earthworm doused in Dettol. I might as well have drunk that antiseptic because the vomiting and diarrhea tells me that I’ve got food poisoning. Oh, and a splitting headache that came and went as and when it liked. How annoying!

To make matters worse, I hadn’t finished that long over-due assignment, so I had to muster up enough willpower just to complete enough of my program coding to allow my project team mate to take over from me smoothly.

Auugh! And I won’t describe what my toilet trips look like; they’re so offensive to the senses that it would have been ruder to describe them than to hurl swear words around my blog. To keep it short, sometimes, I get the urge to just pour bleach down my digestion system to clean out the stuff.

And then there’s the new exercise regime I’ve only established at the start of this month; I nearly broke the chain when I contemplated missing Thursday’s session, but I decided to go for it anyway. But multiple trips to the toilet per day can have some serious effect on your legs, as I found out. I had to take breaks frequently, even if my stamina could take on the longer distances. I ended up taking 15 min 30 sec to finish 2.3km, farting at choice locations so that the gas built up won’t blow my stomach apart.

I’m not sure what the diners at the 24-hour eateries I passed by thought of when they smelled the fragrance of processed-in-Singapore food.

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Speaking as somebody who’s expanding horizontally, arresting that bulging man-breasts has become something more than a comestic want. It’s become a need. Whereas this isn’t an issue about spending money (like the same measure used when deciding what to buy), this has become a critical decision that I want to take.

I’m supposed to be able to clear the IPPT by the end of August, or face a brutal Remedial Training regime that would eat into my class time project work time. Next semester is a crucial period for me, as I will be starting my final year project, along with my classmates. Taking time out from my project to take part in a mass exercise is an absolute no-no for me, thus I’ve made a conscious decision to commit to a fixed regular training regime.

Unfortunately, since I’m always busy during the day, the only time I’m free to run is in the evening. And by that I don’t mean 7pm or 8pm. For the past 3 weeks, I’ve been going on 11pm runs, right at the cusp of the new day. It isn’t that hard to run at this time, nor is it very much different from running in the daytime. The cool evening air does motivate me somewhat, and my man-boobs are less conspicuous that way, ever since the town council decided to use lower wattage bulbs for the street lights along my route.

The approach I’ve decided to take is inspired by Jerry Seinfield – maintaining a chain of activity on your monthly calendar. I’ve tested this for the past 3 weeks, and I’m happy to report that it’s my most successful embarkation on a consistent training programme so far. My chain, however is slightly relaxed, as I leave a day’s break between sessions. Of course, I’m giving myself leeway in terms of what constitutes the continuation of the chain: this chain isn’t considered broken, as long as I have at least one exercise day within any 3 day period. That should cover eventualities, like all those looming project deadlines, as well as rainy days.

The reason why I’m posting my progress calendar here, is so that I can be accountable on the Internet for my actions. I’m putting my feet to the fire this time, instead of tolerating the long-term pain later on. I aim to achieve a 10 second reduction in my 2.3km time each session, and thus hit my target 2.3km timing of 11:40 by end of April 2009.

I’ll also be re-posting this calendar with each of my post, so that any stalkers can monitor my updates. Hold me accountable for my fitness, and I may post pictures of my shrinking beer-belly once I hit my target

Today’s timing is an improvement over the 21 January 2009 timing of 14 min 25 sec. I stopped at the 1 min 38 sec mark to take a call from a friend, and resumed running immediately after the call ended. Taking calls allowed me to catch my breath, and so may be responsible for my improvement today. You may not think so, but I know that I stuffed cashew nuts and other new year goodies down my belly in the day, so the effects of this particular session may be nullified. But at the very least, I know that I’ve burnt off a percentage of today’s calorie intake, and that alone is motivation enough for me to carpet-bomb goodies tomorrow!

And here’s the calendar:

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I’m quite positive that Evolution isn’t going to be too kind to them if they weren’t domesticated.

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Well, not exactly the full 2.4km run, but I did 6 rounds of interval training around the stadium in Singapore Polytechnic. It’s a busy place in the evening, because everybody would be there exercising. The soccer team was there to practice their soccer (like, isn’t that obvious), and the track and field team was doing various static exercises to strengthen their muscles. There were many uncles on the track too, so the area was pretty crowded.

I managed to hit 1 min 40 seconds for the first 400 metres. That’s like being on the path to a 10 minute 2.4km run, but my lungs screamed like an engine taking on insufficient air as I struggled to the end point, so it’s quite apparent that I won’t maintain that pace for the real 2.4. Not yet anyway.

Mr Low, my Data Structures and Algorithms lecturer for the last semester breezed past me as I panted for breath at the finishing line marker after my first sprint. I could tell that he’s pretty used to this, so it’s more of a fitness maintenance programme for him.

My next 3 rounds were pretty average, hitting the timing ceiling for fartlek, as interval trainings are called in French. 2 minutes is the absolute worst you are allowed to do for interval training. 6 rounds of a 2 minute 400 metres only allows a 20 second safety buffer before I hit the fail point.

The last 2 rounds were pretty bad, hitting 2 min 25 seconds and 2 min 30 seconds respectively. Given my current chui fitness level, that’s about the most I’m getting out of my body.

As you can see, the purpose of my doing interval training is so that I can pass my 2.4km run for the IPPT test. I used to be able to pass this portion with aplomb; and I’m talking timings like 10 minute and 20 seconds, although my worst timing at my fitness peak while I was in the army was 11 minute and 38 seconds — still enough to qualify for a silver award! But indulging in past glories and achievements is akin to resting my (now fat) bum on laurels. Sadly, the world doesn’t work that way, so I’ll need to train up more if I am to pass my IPPT this time round. And I can’t afford to fail this IPPT, because remedial training is an impossible commitment for me, since my assignment load in school is pretty heavy!

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It feels like either the stars are in alignment today, or the mix of chemicals in my body have started to stabilise. I’ve gotten used to rely on less sleep today, even though I went into deep sleep on the train back home.

I’m also possibly helping to perpetuate the stereo-type that Singaporeans don’t give up their seats for those whom need them, because I saw this middle-aged lady with lots of groceries standing right in front of me. Only problem, I was in blissful dreamland, so I only realised that when I woke up automatically at my destination station.

So, I would like to apologise to that auntie in red colour dress for not noticing her. I generally give up my train seat whenever I see somebody who needs it board the train. My insecurity is the cause for this post, just in case my picture ended up in that time-waster site (which starts with a “St” and has something to do with what you do with your foot).

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I’ve become quite skeptical these few weeks; and at school, I’ve started to doubt my motivations. Where has my confidence gone? I don’t feel like doing anything, and the best thing I’ve been ever contented to do these days was to lie down on my bed during the day — if you discount the fact that I’m simultaneously hating myself for sleeping my ass off.

I fear that I might soon face a huge test to my willpower, and it’s one trial that I’m afraid to face right now. Some friends diagnosed me as being commitment-adverse, but I’m more interested in knowing the cause for my psychological change. Of course, that’s not as appealing as curling up, so I’m going back to bed now.

(P.S. is this what many people call, “emo-ing”?)

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